


We Don't Say Goodbye

by echoes_of_another_life



Category: Angel: the Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:11:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoes_of_another_life/pseuds/echoes_of_another_life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel’s thoughts as he stood in the alley and prepared to face the dragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Don't Say Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweptawaybayou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweptawaybayou/gifts).



> Set during, "Not Fade Away"

We Don't Say Goodbye

Angel stood in the alley and prepared to stare death in the face, and despite what some would believe it _was_ death and not just another vampire eliminated. There were those who would say a vampire couldn’t die, for how could a thing that was never truly alive die? He’d thought that too, once upon a time, believed in the Shanshu prophecy for so long, the chance to live, to breathe, to feel, to die as Wes had died, as so many had died, to hear his heart beat, to feel his chest rise and fall with each breath until he breathed no more. But somewhere along the many battles, the loves and losses that had changed.

He glanced over at Spike, saw the wounds, the ugly tear in his skin that marred his beautiful, familiar face, saw the blood that flowed as freely as Gunn’s and knew Spike suffered for every blow. Yet Angel knew they’d never match the wounds that caused Spike’s heart to bleed, caused the blood to flow despite the lack of heartbeat that made him no less of a man.

Angel had seen Spike’s heart; seen how he loved, like no vampire had ever loved, more than most humans were capable of loving. Spike loved and lost as Angel had loved and lost and his heart carried the same wounds as his own, had bled for those who’d fallen along the way, ached for those who’d brought light into his existence … his life. 

Spike, who made the choice to do good for the sake of doing good, who proved himself worthy at the cost of his own life, a vampire who died saving the world and came back a Champion.

They say as long as someone remembered, as long as there is one person in the world who keeps you in their memories, who spares you a single thought then you can never truly die. 

Angel remembered, he remembered them all …

Doyle, who taught him so much, who opened his eyes to the pain and suffering all around him. Who made him look deep within himself to the thing he was and the man he could be, Doyle was more than his eyes to the pain and suffering, more than a fellow Irish demon trying to get by in a world where his true face wasn’t accepted, more than a messenger. He was a warrior of good, his guide … his friend.

And Cordelia, his strength whenever he was weak, who despite everything she’d seen during her time in Sunnydale, despite all the horrors, including Angelus and the loss of everything she knew and who had more reason to loathe him than most yet didn’t. She always saw the best in him, pushed him along, and kept him upright when he wanted to fall.

Cordelia, who never thought much of demons in general but was willing to work for a vampire with a soul. The once selfish, self-centred beauty queen of Sunnydale High who became the friend who gave her last breath to keep him fighting, to remind him of who he was and why he fights, who gave him renewed faith because she believed in him.

And Fred, who’s spirit... who's soul was destroyed so thousands would live, his choice, his decision …

_We cling to what is gone …_

Angel glanced over at Illyria, who like Angel survived with the knowledge that everything she knew was gone, her temple, her armies, all those who were supposed to join her, stand, fight by her side … gone. 

The once God like creature who was feared and worshipped alike now nothing more than the shell she inhabited … 

Fred who fought to save herself and the world from the creature who now stood by his side, who like so many, earned an existence beyond death where she will never suffer. 

Angel caught the grief in Illyria’s face, the once uncaring monarch and warrior of old, now bound to the body of one they loved and lost and who now shared their grief. 

Illyria who now knew something of the pain of losing Fred as she bowed her head against the onslaught of rain, against the onslaught of grief as she mourned the loss of Wesley.

Angel turned his head away from the other’s, glanced up at the sky as the heavens opened and the rain continued to pour, they’d lost so much, so many …

Wesley, fired by the Council of Watchers for his inability to keep control of the Slayers, of Buffy, of Faith, who, like Cordelia, bereft of everything he’d ever known, once respected Watcher and enemy of the vampire chose to work for a vampire with a soul.

_The father will kill the Son …_

Wesley, who unable to share the prophecy with his friends, unable to contact Cordelia, who felt isolated and alone over his fears took Angel’s only son. Wesley’s choice, Wesley’s decision and when unable to find the ones responsible, unable to find Connor, unable to defeat Sahjhan, Wesley who bore the brunt of Angel’s rage. 

The same Wesley, when aware that Angel had been left at the bottom of the ocean, a prisoner of his own thoughts, dreams … nightmares and his son's betrayal searched for Angel, found him, nursed him back to health with his own blood, his own life giving energy and returned him to the good fight. And who like Cordelia had reason to fear Angel, maybe even loath him but who proved the smallest act of kindness _is_ the greatest gift in the world. 

Wesley, his friend, who fought alongside him, who fought for him and died as Doyle had died, as Cordelia had died, as Fred had died ... a hero. 

Wesley who proved himself worthy of any Slayer. 

Angel would remember them all, whether he died this night or years from now. He knew that the life ahead of them and their deaths were unknown. All that was known was the now, this time, this present moment and in that moment he knew that death had not extinguished those who had fallen. Those who had given their lives willingly in the battle against evil. Those who brought them here to this time, this place, this alley. 

Angel knew, as long as memory endured their influence, their love would be felt by all those who stood in that alley and prepared to face death, as those before them faced death … even Darla. 

Darla, who gave her life so their son could live, a vampire who’d never loved another being, never loved anything, even Angelus giving life to the child inside of her. Connor, who allowed her to know love for the first time in her existence and love, is something worth dying for, as she died for Connor, as she was once prepared to die for Angel. As he was once prepared to die for her. To give up his life for the chance of a cure, so she could live, experience everything that her previous life had denied her. 

Darla, who unwilling to accept his sacrifice, his life for hers, unwilling to risk Angel’s soul, his place in the world who instead accepted the chance to die, the way she was supposed to die all those years ago. 

And if Angel’s time in this world had taught him anything, it was that death was a certainty. 

Unless the world ended first!

And he wasn’t prepared to let that happen, he wasn’t prepared to let The Wolf, The Ram and The Hart claim the world as their own, the time of The Old Ones was over, gone, dead, like Illyria’s armies, her warriors, like his friends, like his fellow warriors, fellow heroes and heroes don’t accept the way the world is.

And maybe once, eons ago evil ruled the earth but no more, not while there was people like them, warriors, champions, it didn’t matter where they came from, human, vampire, not anymore. All that mattered was power and the willingness to use it. To stand up, to show them what the world can be, to show them they don’t own humanity, that humanity has the right to choose. So maybe once they ruled the earth, were destined to be the power over, well he’d just signed destiny away, and maybe destiny was something you can’t avoid, maybe it was but he was willing to live or die to find out.

The sky thundered above as the heavy rain continued, momentarily drowning out the sounds of the approaching hordes, hundreds possibly thousands of demons, monsters of all shapes and sizes made their way down the alley to the few left standing. 

“OK. You take the 30,000 on the left...” 

Angel heard the high-pitched screech and looked up into the darkness, as the armies of hell grew nearer; saw the huge wingspan of the creature as it bore down on them, its screeches becoming louder as it prepared to attack. 

"You're fading. You'll last ten minutes at best," Illyria warned Gunn.

Gunn stood, slowly and faced the oncoming army, saw Angel step forward as Spike and Illyria followed, Spike standing off to Angel’s right as Gunn flanked a step behind and Illyria took up position at Angel’s left. 

“Then let's make 'em memorable.” 

_Memorable …_

Angel remembered, he remembered them all, reminded himself of each person’s life, the interactions he had with them and knew he was not alone. Death was inevitable and in that inevitability he felt about him their arms, their love, and their strength. 

_Fight the good fight, yeah, you never know until you’ve been tested …_

_But you're bigger than that. You'll win this in the end …_

_Handsome man saved me from the monsters …_

_Hope is the one thing that will sustain you …_

_I've seen it now - everything you're going through, everything you've gone through. - I felt it. I felt how you care. The way no one's ever cared before …_

Life was too important to waste on trivial matters, minutes, hours, all that mattered was now, here, this time, this moment, better to find it’s meaning than count the seconds.

Death was inevitable. But not theirs, not this night, not in this alley.

“In terms of a plan?” Spike asked.

“We fight,” Angel replied, never once taking his eyes of the approaching enemy.

“Bit more specific,” Spike asked, glancing at Angel briefly before turning his gaze back towards the sounds of wailing and moaning.

Angel paused, looked up at the sky and felt the rain beat down heavily on his already soaked skin, felt arms about him once more, felt warmth despite the cold, strength despite the odds.

_Hand in hand, past and present, warriors all …_

Angel smiled, stepped forward to meet the battle …

“Well, personally, I kind of wanna slay the Dragon,” Angel said, confidently as the demon hordes attacked.

Angel came out in defence of their hearts, their will to choose, their memories and for those he loved. 

Angel remembered, he remembered them all and as long as someone remembers loved ones never die, only one thing stood between the survival of those memories …

Angel swung his sword,

“let’s go to work …”


End file.
